


the spark before the dark (come a little closer)

by justsomejerk



Series: Kybel Rising [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alcohol, An ice queen starts thawing thanks to Good Guy Kyle, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Good Guy Kyle Valenti, Isobel POV, Isobel is still traumatized from Noah but Kyle might be able to help ease it a bit, Kybel Rising, Post-S1, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 20:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20477159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsomejerk/pseuds/justsomejerk
Summary: Isobel and Kyle have an unexpected run-in while they're both out of town and find themselves falling for each other.





	the spark before the dark (come a little closer)

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the idea that the connection Max and Michael have with Liz and Alex, respectively, can be explained by imprinting, and wondering what it would look like for Isobel. Plus, I just feel like Kyle and Isobel would be well-matched and I wanted to explore that dynamic a bit. With some porn thrown in for good measure. Obviously.
> 
> Title from Tegan and Sara's Closer

_"They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered."  
_ _F. Scott Fitzgerald _

Isobel never once in her life considered leaving Roswell, but that has changed lately. Staying only led her into the arms of Noah, and into a complacent existence following in her mother's footsteps. But she figures if she is seriously considering a life elsewhere without her brothers as a support system, she should start small and concludes a spa weekend alone is a good place to test out her independence. Thanks to Noah’s savings, she quickly books the most expensive package she can find and a few days later she’s in Austin.

After a day of indulging in spa treatments, including flotation therapy and something ridiculous called a crystal facial, she finds herself at the bar in a neighbouring hotel nursing a martini. After only twenty minutes, she is practicing deep breathing to keep from panicking at the thought of being touched by a stranger and she figures that means it's time to head back to her hotel. Tonight will not be the night she finds herself brave enough to do what she really left Roswell to do: get her first sexual experience since Noah over with.

"Isobel?"

She whips around at the vaguely familiar voice to her right and with a start, sees Kyle Valenti with his head tilted her way and an uncertain but warm smile on his face. "Kyle. Hi." He gives her an awkward wave as she tries her best to regain her composure at the unexpected familiar face intruding on her solo weekend away. He has one hand on the bar, fingers nervously tapping a steady rhythm and, briefly looking away from her, sips his beer.

_ Do I make Kyle Valenti nervous? _ Isobel is amused at the thought, until she recalls the last time they'd even spoken. It was when she mind warped him into giving her the serum, then without hesitation, threw himself into saving her life without so much as a mention of her actions. That was over eight months ago now, and though they'd all been together at the cave the day Max was brought back, Kyle spent that time keeping everyone calm and focused on the task at hand. Once they'd succeeded and Kyle checked Max over physically, he and Alex had quietly slipped out to allow Michael, Isobel and Liz privacy with Max. She sighs deeply, wondering why someone who clearly doesn’t like her would approach her at all, and turns to him. “So, what are you doing in Austin?”

Kyle seems relieved at the question, and quickly hops onto the stool beside her. “Surgical conference. You?”

Isobel chuckles with a hint of bitterness. “Oh, you know. Recovering from a lifetime of mind control and puppeteering. Still. Learned any fascinating new surgical procedures?” She puts on a falsely bright smile and, not waiting for his response, holds her drink up in a half-hearted cheer before draining it.

Kyle just watches her with curious eyes and asks her with true concern in his voice, “Are you okay?”

For a split second, Isobel looks him in the eye and wants to answer honestly. But the urge passes and instead she rolls her eyes, and asks, “Why are you drinking alone? Aren't there other former frat bros turned respectable life-saving surgeons you could be drinking with?” She inclines her head slightly at the table of raucous all-male drinkers across the room.

“Half of them only come to these things to cheat on their partners, and most of them are succeeding.” He looks mildly bashful as he continues, “When I saw it was you, I may have implied I came over to hit on the pretty blonde at the bar. Sorry to use you as an excuse, I just really couldn't take much more of them.”

She tosses an icy glare over her shoulder at the group, and finds a couple of the men looking her way. Maybe she could use this to her advantage. Barely having dated before meeting Noah, flirting with strangers is a terrifying prospect. She's never felt less control over her life than she has since Noah fell flat on the desert floor, dead at Max's hands. Maybe fake flirting with Kyle Valenti for an audience of mindless dudebros will help. Especially doing it far from the pitying eyes of Roswell's society ladies, all hoping to be the first to crack the icy veneer of widow Isobel Evans-Bracken and report the first waterworks spotted.

She looks back at Kyle, a devious expression on her face. “Well, I suppose it would be only fair to give them a show.” Kyle is taken aback by that declaration, and goes to pull back but Isobel grabs his arm first, gripping it unexpectedly aggressively and, speaking louder than necessary, she cries out, “Oh my God, a surgeon? Tell me more!”

And this is how Kyle figures out that Isobel may present herself as a paragon of white middle-class perfection on all fronts, but she's an abysmal failure when it comes to flirting.

An hour and several drinks later, they’re laughing and falling into the hotel elevator together. Isobel clutches the handrail behind her, listing a bit to the side but stubbornly remaining on her feet.

“I swear, I’ve seen a woman successfully take a guy home by sticking her tongue in his ear. It’s a thing!” Isobel is desperately trying to save face after her earnest and over-the-top efforts at fake seduction failed to impress her target, but Kyle isn’t having it.

“Who was the guy? Don’t say Guerin.”

Isobel looks at him aghast, like she’s been caught and Kyle reacts by howling with laughter. “You should not be basing your assumptions about dating on Guerin’s life choices made at 2am after overdoing it with the whiskey and acetone. The guy has only shown good taste twice in his life.”

She rolls her eyes. “The jury’s still out on Deluca. You know Rosa has forgiven me, but she refuses to?”

Kyle throws his head back and chuckles. “Have you done anything to earn her forgiveness?”

Isobel looks shocked, with just a touch of faux outrage. “Yes! I mean.. maybe! Sort of?” At Kyle's doubtful expression, she shrugs and admits defeat. “Okay, maybe not at all. Whatever, she still doesn’t have to be so hostile!”

The elevator doors open, and Isobel marches straight out, stops and looks either way. She holds out her arms dramatically and asks, “Which way, Valenti?”

Kyle looks her up and down as he moves to stand beside her in case she stumbles more. “You know, we left all the guys downstairs. You really didn't need to insist on pretending to come up to my room with me. I can order you a Lyft. Or better yet, I'll walk you back to your hotel.” Kyle grows softer as he talks, the concern from earlier returning to his voice.

She makes a face. “Ugh, no. Don't make me go be alone in that room with my thoughts right now. I'm so _ tired _ of falling asleep alone.” She plasters a bright smile on her face and gives her eyelashes an exaggerated flutter in an effort to win him over.

Ignoring her continued bad attempts at flirting, a hint of panic enters Kyle's eyes. He has one hand hovering inches below her elbow, prepared to steady her if necessary, as he carefully says, “Isobel, you're drunk. Really drunk. I didn’t actually realize aliens could even _ get _ this drunk. I'm not going to take advantage of that.”

The loose playful smile drops from her face instantly, and she glares and swats his hand away, raising a finger to point in his face. “Of course you're not. You're Good Guy Kyle! You love good girls like Liz Ortecho and you go running to take care of Alex Manes when my brother breaks his heart and you do your best to save my life even when I killed your sister.” Her biting tone becomes acid as she leans closer, backing Kyle up against the wall and moving into his space before continuing, “But Liz doesn't love you, does she? She's in love with my brother. Your new sister barely tolerates having you around. Turns out all of Alex's friends suck so he has no one to turn to but you, his high school bully. Jesse Manes didn't even think you were worth bringing out the big guns, he cornered you all alone as an afterthought! Tell me, Good Guy Kyle. Aren't you tired of being everyone's second choice? Wouldn't it be nice to be first for once?”

Their faces are inches apart, Kyle's palms pressed tensely against the wall behind him as he stares at her with an intense but inscrutable expression. Her eyes are darting around his face, surprised and chastened by the lingering silence after her harsh diatribe. She doesn't know what inspired her to mouth off to Kyle Valenti, of all people. She also can't quite place why his outright rejection of her joking overtures has her reeling and wishing he could allow himself to be just a _ little _ less chivalrous. Though it may be connected to how, while watching his profile as he brought a beer to his perfectly shaped mouth and sucked down the dregs, she couldn't help imagining running her fingers down his sharp cheekbones to trace his jaw with the lightest touch of her fingertips. More importantly, when she imagined it, her stomach didn't clench with a familiar nausea and apprehension, but with excitement. She wants to feel how his skin reacts to her touch. Not to mention tonight is the most fun she’s had in months, and it’s been years since her stomach ached simply from laughing so hard.

Suddenly he's moving his face closer, his expression heightened but still unreadable to her. Her eyes dart down to his lips and she finds her vision blurring. He pushes off from the wall inch by inch and at the moment their noses would have brushed, he turns his face away to hold an arm out to his left and quietly declares, “Room 431.” He waits while she processes what he said and slowly moves in the direction he indicates. He walks alongside her to the room, watching to ensure she is steady on her feet. They don’t speak as he opens the door and lets her walk in first.

She doesn't know why she's surprised to see not one, but two queen beds. She slowly makes her way over to the one farthest from the door. She briefly stares out the window overlooking the twinkling lights and the Colorado River before she flops herself down on her back. She has already started drifting into sleep atop the sheets when she feels something soft tossed onto the bed beside her and peaks open an eye to find a University of Michigan t-shirt and plaid boxers waiting for her.

Standing at the foot of the other bed by an open suitcase, looking unsure with his hands in his pockets, Kyle clears his throat to get her attention and says, "I'll just be a few minutes so you can get changed," before quickly ducking into the bathroom.

She slowly sits up, sighing. Where did she get the stupid notion that a guy like Kyle would even be interested? _ He knows you were stupid enough to fall for Noah's bullshit, _ she berates herself, a new habit she only indulges on her worst days. _ He knows exactly who and what you are and that's why he'll never want you. You're not _ good _ like him. _

At this thought, she stands and pulls her black silk dress over her head. When Kyle emerges from the bathroom minutes later, she is on her side facing the window, the covers pulled up to her shoulders as she pretends to sleep.

She doesn't know how much time passes before she hears the television turn on at low volume and hears the unmistakable sound of a Real Housewife throwing wine glasses and picking a fight, as Kyle settles on his bed. She falls asleep smiling.

-

Aliens aren't supposed to get hangovers but when Isobel wakes up, she somehow feels simultaneously heavy-limbed and empty. Blinking one eye open, she sees hazy light coming in through the half-shuttered blinds and hears soft sounds of life coming from her left. She shifts quietly under her cozy blankets to see Kyle Valenti fully dressed with his back to her, quietly shuffling through papers at a desk and sipping a mug of coffee. He is clearly going about his morning routine quietly to keep from waking her and that knowledge makes her smile despite the ache in her head.

“Good morning.”

He looks over and a hesitant smile breaks out over his face. “Morning, Evans. How are you feeling?” Seeing her minor wince, he motions towards the bedside table and Isobel turns to see a bottle of nail polish remover and a mug of coffee. She gives him a puzzled expression.

He shrugs. “I started carrying it around in the medicine bag I keep with me. Just in case some errant alien happens to need it.” He smirks before looking back down to the papers on the desk and taking a seat.

She sits up in bed and helps herself. After a few minutes of silence, Isobel licks her lips and haltingly begins: “I'm sorry about what I said last night. I- uh, I don't know where any of that came from.”

A large mirror with a gilded gold frame hangs over the desk. He catches her eye in it and raises an eyebrow. “I didn't realize you'd been paying such close attention.”

Isobel feels herself blush and she pulls the covers up a little further to cover her chest. “I wasn't trying to. I just- I've spent most of my life performing. Imitating people was one of the first skills I taught myself when Max and I first came to Roswell. I've been watching humans my whole life, trying to understand them. To be like them.”

“You see a lot more than you let on.” It isn't a question, simply a statement. She looks away, towards the window overlooking the river.

“I spend a lot of time around bored housewives. It's mostly just gathering gossip and then putting two and two together. Plus Alex decided to force his friendship on me recently, and now they all want to know if the sweetest of the Manes boys is dating the Sheriff's handsome surgeon son.” She finishes with a smirk and pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs herself under the blanket.

“And what do you tell them?”

“That you just celebrated your one year anniversary together in your cozy, but very horror movie-esque, cabin in the woods. I redecorated as a gift because I'm an _incredibly_ giving friend.” They both laugh, Kyle turned away towards his conference documents, while Isobel watches his face as he keeps chuckling into his mug. A warm feeling blossoms in the pit of her stomach and spreads through her, and she is momentarily stunned to realize it is a result of making Kyle laugh.

This is not what she was intending when she decided her spa weekend was just a cover for her first fuck post-Noah. _ Goddammit. _ She is not supposed to be developing a crush on this guy, especially not one with whom she shares a social circle. She’s spent so much time these past few months dwelling on her sex life with Noah. He’s the only one she’s ever been with, and she’s terrified to find out how different it will be with someone else. To find out that maybe no one will ever make her feel the way that sociopath did. To find out that she’s so utterly broken that she can’t get off with someone who is genuinely kind and thoughtful and _ not _ hiding a dead corpse in a pod.

To find out that all those nights she’s tried to touch herself since his death that ended in her sobbing alone are how she’s going to spend the rest of her life.

Trying to shake herself out of her funk, she downs the coffee and nail polish remover before carefully getting up to take the seat beside Kyle. He looks up from what he’s reading just in time for her to steel herself, look him in the eye and say, “I never thanked you. For the way you treated me in the hospital last year.”

He pushes the papers away to provide Isobel his full attention. “I was just doing my job.”

“No. Your job was to keep me alive. You did more than that. So thanks.”

Kyle looks at her silently for a long time. Isobel is about to start talking just to cut through the intensity of his gaze and that's when he speaks. “How are you, really? After.. everything?”

“I don't know.” Isobel's voice cracks just saying it out loud, as if simply acknowledging the truth aloud breaks open something inside her she's closed off in the months since Michael and Max stopped asking that same question. “I'm thinking of moving. Somewhere new. Maybe trying to start again. But I don't think I'm brave enough.”

“Not brave enough? You're Isobel Evans. Can't you take a man down with the bat of your eyelashes?”

She arches an eyebrow. Being called brave makes her feel like maybe she can be, so she charges ahead with the first thought that pops into her head. “Clearly not, considering my failure last night.”

Kyle is stunned, lips parted, and leans his body back further into his chair. “I, uh.. you know why nothing could happen, right? I would never do that-”

“I'm not drunk now. And these beds are surprisingly comfortable for a mid-range chain hotel.”

“I just- Do you think you're ready to be-”

Isobel makes a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and throws her hands up. “Everyone keeps talking about how awful it is that I had my agency taken away for so long, yet everyone around me seems pretty fucking determined to keep the trend going. Can anyone just trust me to make my own goddamn decisions about what I want? Am I _ allowed _ to have control now?” The last question is dripping with angry sarcasm. She stares him down, leaning in to make up for the distance he created, challenging him.

Mirroring her movement, he leans forward again and rests his hands on his thighs, giving her a searching look. “You're right. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just not sure what you're looking for from me. It's not that I'm not interested - how could I not be - but I don't want to misunderstand and end up hurting you.”

When she responds this time, she looks anywhere but into his eyes. The jarring intimacy of the morning has already been too raw, but something in her is unwilling to put an end to it just yet. “I don’t trust many people. It’s really only ever been my brothers and Noah. Now Alex too, I guess. I know we don’t even really know each other, but I trust you too. And I want the first person I’m with since him to be someone I trust.”

Kyle is silent for a few moments, leaving Isobel to avoid his eyes while the agonizing moments following her confession stretch on. “That’s a lot of pressure.” Kyle says it in a neutral tone and quickly realizes she may misunderstand and adds, “Good thing I’m a surgeon. I'm _ great _ under pressure.” He gives her a flirty crooked smile as they finally lock eyes.

Without giving herself the time to overthink it, she jerks forward, clumsily knocking their knees together and giving him a close-mouthed kiss. Allowing him little time to respond, she pulls back slightly, her eyes closed, her left hand hovering inches over his chest as she lets out a hot breath. His hand finds her cheek, gently brushing circles with his thumb as they remain otherwise still, their faces inches from one another. She brings her hand down to rest over his heart. She feels movement and a moment later his other hand is brought to rest on her bare knee; her breath hitches and her whole body jerks involuntarily at this simple contact she has gone months without. He rushes to pull away, whispering frantic apologies into the inches of hot space between them, but she grabs his arm back, roughly placing it on her thigh and squeezing his hand underneath hers. Then she places her hands on his neck and roughly brings his mouth to hers.

This kiss is different; it’s needy and desperate and something entirely new for Isobel. Kyle is pliant under her hands and mouth, allowing her to set the pace and let her hands roam free over his chest and arms and shoulders while he maintains a grip on her thigh, squeezing in pulses to match the intensity of their kisses.

It’s only when she rises from her chair to move the few remaining inches to Kyle’s lap that he puts a stop to things. Her face is hovering over his, mildly irritated at the halt in the proceedings, and he reaches up to smooth her tousled hair, gently running fingers through tangles and says, “Today’s the last day of the conference and I actually really have to get down there. Like, five minutes ago. But.. tonight?” His cheeks are red and his eyes are bright and, if Isobel is reading his expression correctly, hopeful.

Isobel looks him up and down, steadying her breathing now that the moment is broken. She stands up straight, trying her best to look commanding while still wearing his college shirt and boxers, and crisply says, “My hotel room, seven o’clock. I’ll text you the details.” Nervous she may lose her resolve if she lets him respond, she grabs last night’s dress and dashes into the bathroom where she remains until after he calls out an earnest, “See you tonight, Isobel,” and closes the door behind himself.

-

She is a bundle of nerves throughout the day, yet still eye-rolls her way through her mother’s recommendations of reflexology and reiki treatment. _ The shit humans will buy into_, she thinks as she makes her way to the sauna. She keeps pondering her body in every mirror she passes, trying to see herself through Kyle’s eyes even as a voice in her head tries to bat away her insecurities, insisting Kyle is lucky to be wanted by her in the first place.

She is frantic by evening, trying various combinations of lingerie and dresses. Everything she brought, the bustiers and garters and _ especially _ the leather corset, feels too over-the-top for someone who has already seen her dying in a psych ward and crying over her brother’s dead body. In the end, she opts for a matching lingerie set in delicate black lace, and throws a deep purple dress on top, leaving her hair loose over her shoulders. When the knock comes, she gives her body a shake to expel some of the nervous energy and pulls the door open.

Kyle looks as good as he always does, wearing an emerald green button-up and dark jeans. His mouth drops open slightly after a beat of taking in her appearance and he stutters out, “You, uh- you look incredible.” Isobel can’t stop the genuine smile that overtakes her features but before she can respond, he seems to remember what he is holding in his left hand and presents a bouquet of green and purple peonies, wrapped with a wide silver ribbon, to her. He hurries to speak as she takes them and leads him into her room, “They’re fake.” At her questioning expression, he blushes and adds, “I had this girlfriend back in med school, she said fake flowers are the perfect gift for a first date. Not that this is a date! Just.. they don’t die. So you can always keep them as a souvenir if you want to, uh, remember the occasion.”

He is clearly nervous as he is flexing his hands and fidgeting while she sets the flowers carefully down on the round glass table by the window. Seeing him like this helps put her own nerves at ease enough to place a hand on her hip and boldly ask, “Are you gonna give me something to remember tonight, Valenti?”

“Uh.” He is a deer caught in the headlights and Isobel is feeling increasingly confident the more he stumbles in the face of their plan. He catches himself and continues, “I mean, if that’s still what you want. You don’t have to-”

Isobel strides over to stand in front of him and cuts him off with a tone of exasperation. “You’re not going to try and argue with me about how I can’t possibly be ready or know what I want, are you? That I’m still too victimized to think for myself?”

After a beat, Kyle regards her with a half smile and tucks a section of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing the soft skin behind her earlobe and lightly dragging them down her neck to her exposed collarbone. He gently presses down and responds, “I trust you.”

A shiver runs down her spine at him echoing her own words back at her, a breath caught in her throat. His gaze feels like it has split her open at her most vulnerable points and she feels a new kind of nervousness creeping in. She could have chosen a stranger, someone who would never look at her like he really _ sees _ her. _ Since when has Kyle Valenti _ seen _ me though? _ She wonders. Nothing about this weekend is going as planned.

But this time, the loss of control feels like an acceptable trade-off for what she might gain in return.

-

He is taking his time, slowly pulling down her lacy underwear, his head low over her belly yet maintaining eye contact with her as she props her head up on the pillows and watches his progress. With each inch of flesh revealed, he sears kisses and licks and soft strokes onto her skin, making his way down the length of her body slowly, slowly.

She feels like something sacred and someone has finally come to worship.

-

“Has anyone ever told you that you run hot?”

He says it distractedly in between kisses to her neck, his fingers lost in her hair, the entirety of his body pressed over hers. A comforting weight.

She was in a soft haze of sensation, lulled in by his lips and the low gravelly tone he uses to speak into her skin. Yet her eyes blink open at his unexpected words, jarring her out of the moment. “What? No! What does that mean?”

He chuckles and pushes his smile into the hollow of her throat. “Just something Alex has drunkenly mumbled about once or twice. I’m glad I get to experience it myself.” He cuts off any further questions with a slow filthy kiss, his tongue working its way into her mouth.

-

He lays his head on her bare stomach, curled up into her warm body as he holds her hand and strokes the thin sensitive skin on her inner wrist. Her other hand is mindlessly fingering through his dark hair as she leans against the headboard. “For a long time I didn’t think much about what it meant to go into human minds. Max and Michael were the only _ real _ people for so long. I think it only really hit me after Rosa, when I mind-warped Liz into leaving. I didn’t use my powers for ten years after that. God, I wish I had _ any _ power but this one.”

He nuzzles his face further into her and continues caressing her as she closes her eyes and sighs. The melancholic thoughts melt away until all she feels is him.

-

Sitting up side by side on Isobel’s bed in the thick hotel robes Kyle got adorably excited about wearing, they ate room service and drank the pink champagne Isobel insisted they order even though she usually wouldn’t admit to loving something so basic. While they eat, their conversation runs the gamut from their favourite Real Housewives franchise (New York for Isobel; Beverly Hills for Kyle) to the guy he hooked up with back in Idaho (“Does it make me a Kinsey 2 if he’s the only guy I’ve ever been attracted to?”) to legacy (Project Shepherd for Kyle; unknown for Isobel) to alien powers, immigration, Rosa Ortecho, life outside Roswell, Taylor Swift’s best albums. Isobel is shocked to discover opening up comes easy with him, and she instinctively knows it isn’t just that he already knows what she really is. This is something else entirely.

Kyle leans against the headboard and rolls his head to watch her as she drains a champagne flute with lips red and kiss-swollen. He reaches out a palm and nudges it underneath the collar of her robe, smoothing it across her skin and bringing it to rest on her chest. He focuses on the rise and fall of her breathing as she sets the flute down on the bedside table, and he says, “This isn’t what I thought it would be.”

Stretching her legs out in front of her, she pulls the robe off her shoulders, shifting so his hand naturally moves lower down her chest and brushes her already-hard nipple. She responds, “This is so much better than I thought it could be.”

-

She pants and her back arches off his chest where she lays against him as his fingers move insistently inside her, curling, finding the perfect spot. She moans.

-

It’s been hours, and he hasn’t gotten off once but he doesn’t seem to mind. His arms are locked comfortably around her for a few minutes of cuddling as her body relaxes after the full-body orgasm she’d achieved by grinding into his mouth, his arms roughly pulling her thighs closer and tighter around his face, as if they could merge into one being by sheer force of will. Twitches and pulses still work their way through her body as she lays her head on his chest and gradually brings her breathing to a steady pace. She closes her eyes, her lashes fluttering against his chest, and she focuses on the hand on the small of her back. He is soothing circles into her skin and as she concentrates, she finds herself lost in the rhythm of it. She zones out and all she feels is that small patch of skin where he is touching her, as though her body is giving off lazy but concentrated sparks just from this electric contact.

She pulls back from her hazy headspace when Kyle, his arms still safely around her, says, “Do you know we call you the Pod Squad?”

At this, she moves a palm from where it was laying at the waistband of his black briefs, shifts to rest her chin on his chest, and looks him in the eye to incredulously respond, “Please be joking right now.”

His eyes are soft, betraying a newfound affection, as he grins. “Rosa came up with it. Now it’s all me, her and Alex call you guys. I’ve almost gotten Liz onboard with it too.”

“Ugh, _ humans _.” She gives him an exaggerated eye roll even as she can feel her smile reflecting the fondness she sees in his eyes.

She, Michael and Max have been talking more in the past few months, trying to fix the communication failures of the past. She eagerly asked them about Liz and Alex, and found herself quietly horrified at what she heard. She thought she’d lied to Noah when she told him he wasn’t her person, but what her brothers described feeling was something she’d never experienced. They were hopelessly, helplessly in love, and it didn’t fade with time or distance. As if a power outside of themselves came down and drew them towards these humans, marking them for one another, for life.

Isobel wonders if a moment like this is how it begins, and for the first time tonight, she feels a flash of old fear jolt through to the pit of her stomach.

She’s not ready.

-

A new tension drives her now, and she is determined to push it down, down, down. Steeling herself, she reaches a hand to palm his cock through his briefs for the first time tonight. He does a sharp intake of breath as he looks down at her face, an unreadable look on his face. She tries to arrange her face into a seductive expression before she lowers her mouth and she’s licking along the edges of his waistband, fingers digging to roughly pull his briefs down, freeing his hard cock. She is about to wrap her fingers around the base and swallow him whole when his fingers reach down to her chin, gently raising her head until he fixes her with a stare that sees straight through her. “Hey. What just changed?”

She flutters her eyelashes and uses a faux innocent tone to respond. “Can’t a girl just return the favour?”

“We’re not trading favours, Isobel.” He furrows an eyebrow in concern. He seems like he wants to say something more, but changes his mind and instead smiles affectionately, gently pulling on her shoulders to bring her back to his chest. “C’mere. Come back.”

She hesitates, frustrated with herself for being reckless with this delicate thing growing between them. “You really don’t want my mouth?”

“I want what you want. But I don’t like feeling as though you’re just doing something because you think you owe me.”

At that earnest declaration, she gives in to his gentle pull and returns to her place laying directly over his heart. She feels the sting of tears behind her eyes and turns her face to burrow into his skin until the feeling of raw humiliation at being found out passes. He responds by tightening his grip around her, occasionally ducking down to place light kisses along her hairline and temples and whispering a soothing mantra, “It’s ok, you’re ok, I’ve got you, it’s ok, I’ve got you...”

They lay like that for a long time and Isobel is grateful he doesn’t push to know what’s going through her head.

She doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually she finds herself studying his body with her hands, fingertips skittering over his abs and feeling the muscles contract under her light touch. At this, he lets out a soft groan and reaches for her left hand, tangling their fingers together. This is when she lifts herself up on her right elbow to face him, as he looks at her with tender eyes, a shy smile and simply says, “Hi.”

Her smile is wide. “Hi.” They break out into spontaneous giggling and their foreheads find each other, their noses rubbing together, and they kiss as though they’ve already been doing it forever.

Smiling with heavy lidded eyes, she shifts until she’s straddling him and only drops his hands to begin running hers across his chest. She pauses to focus on teasing his nipples between her fingers before ducking her head down to lave at them with her tongue. As he groans through the sensation, one hand supporting the small of her back, his other moves between their bodies to find her clit already soaking wet. He strokes through her folds and she hisses into his skin while swirling her tongue around a hard nipple. Soon she straightens and throws her head back, moaning his name while he finger-fucks her, groping her breasts in turn, roughly sucking at her nipples until her voice becomes erratic and his name comes out as only a stutter between curses.

Suddenly she drops her head down to meet his forehead and grabs his wrist to still his movements. At his frantic searching face, she growls, “Valenti, I need you to be fucking me right now.” Wordlessly he grabs a condom from the bedside table and rips it open with his teeth, but she quickly takes it from him and with a wicked smile, starts rolling it down herself. His eyes roll back in his head and he rakes his nails down her back, muttering, “Oh _ fuck _.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his mouth as she lifts herself to envelop the head of his cock with her cunt, holding there while she moves her hips in circles, teasing his tip. The slow but hungry tone of her kisses matches the lazy movement of her hips and he is moaning into her mouth, begging her to sink down on his hard cock and _ move _. She smiles against his mouth and he moves to plant wet, rough kisses down her jaw and neck as he repeats, “Please, Isobel..” into her skin, branding her with his desperate pleas.

“Now, now.. I thought you wanted what I wanted? Are you taking that back now, baby?” She pushes her fingers through his hair as she says it and plants her palms fiercely on each side of his neck, forcing him to look into her eyes to answer the question from where he is cupping her breasts and hungrily licking her nipples into his mouth.

He swallows hard, his eyes dark as he tries to provide a coherent answer while she soaks the head of his sheathed cock with her cunt and rocks her hips over him. Quivering slightly, he wraps his arms around her lower back again and with an open expression, he shakily says, “I'll give you anything you want, Isobel.”

A wicked and satisfied grin spreads across her face as she locks eyes with him and plunges her hips down, taking his full length at once. They both groan as though the sound has been punched out of them and he tightens his arms around her as she rides him, savouring the feeling of finally being filled after months of emptiness.

-

She wakes in the dark, Kyle wrapped around her and sound asleep. She squirms further back, pressing into his sleeping form for maximum skin-to-skin contact. She is used to waking up at all hours of the night now, but this is different. She isn’t feeling desperate or panicked or anxious or alone.

She feels calm, settled, and alive. Her head is alight with warm feelings from Michael and Max, reaching her along the revived psychic connection they’ve been nurturing together since Max’s return. At Liz’s encouragement, they’ve been practicing using it for communicating basic emotions beyond pain and danger. Specifically, they send along positive vibes when one of them is feeling particularly happy; Liz cheerily calls them psychic pick-me-ups.

And thankfully for all of them and their respective sex lives, the messages arrive without context, only as an undiluted sense of joy, or belonging, or satisfaction.

Through their talks in the past few months, Max and Isobel have discovered Michael's fears of abandonment and his belief in his own unlovability run deeper than they ever realized. As a result, she and Max added an extra challenge to their psychic flexing: sending responses. An acknowledgement that they are each loved and they deserve what they're feeling. That their family is happy for them. Michael probably knows Max suggested it just for his sake, but he's never said anything. Besides, Michael smiles a lot more these days.

She has less practice with happiness lately than her brothers, so she still projects out the messages unwittingly sometimes. She figures she must have done so over the course of the night, because now, as she gently encloses Kyle's hand in her own to lay securely against her chest, she closes her eyes and sinks into the warm glow of her brothers celebrating the first genuine happiness she has experienced in too long.

-

When Isobel wakes up in the morning, her first thought before opening her eyes is cuddling and suggesting they stay in bed and order breakfast. With a dull ache of disappointment, she realizes Kyle is already in the shower. A few minutes later he emerges with wet hair and dressed in last night's clothes, and her disappointment morphs into dread at the gentle rejection she is now certain she is about to experience.

He smiles at her and perches on the bed and turns his body to face her where she is sitting up. His hands are hovering in the air between them as though he wants to reach out and touch her, but he doesn’t. Instead he speaks in a neutral tone. “Listen. I’m never going to understand what you went through with Noah, but I hope you got what you needed. From last night.”

She is quiet in response. She looks down at her own hands clenched tight around the edges of the duvet, and finds herself wishing this were as easy as it was with Noah. She knows that’s something she can never say out loud. No one would understand. They’d probably be horrified, in fact. But sometimes she wants to forget the true implications behind Noah’s ability to give her exactly what she needed, whenever she needed it, and just remember the cozy, insulating feeling she could soak up during those moments. She wants that simplicity back. She’s been desperately afraid she would never have it again, and even more afraid that if she does, they’ll be faking it and she will be too foolish and viciously lonely to know the difference.  
  
She felt it last night. But it’s morning, and the sun has blotted out the safety of the dark, and Kyle is already itching to leave. She wants to respond with something cutting, something the old Isobel would say, from before the truth turned her raw and brittle and maddeningly vulnerable.

“Did _ you _ get something you needed?”

He looks rattled for a second, trying to search for her meaning in her face and in the way she clenches the bedcovers. “I, uh- I mean, yeah. Yes. But I want to know how you feel about it. It's important to me.”

Isobel tilts her head as she looks at him. She doesn't smile - she doesn't want to give herself away. She doesn't know how to answer the question without doing so and she sidesteps. “What do we do once we get back to Roswell?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do we avoid each other? Do we stop and say hi at the Crashdown? When Alex and I hang out, will you stick around?”

He smiles easily. “It's not that complicated, Isobel. Of course we'll see each other. We're friends.”

_ Ugh, friends? You made me cum four times last night and now we're _ friends_? _She plasters a sarcastic smile on her face. “Friends? You know I don’t have many of those. I may be feared, but I’m not well-liked.”

“Well, you have one more now. Besides, you're the only person who knows about my deep love of Bravo’s programming. I need someone to marathon entire seasons with.” At this, he finally reaches out and places a light hand on her forearm. As if he somehow _ knew _ that his words provoked her mind to start playing a romcom reel of them on her couch at home, trying to keep their distance but slowly gravitating towards one another in fits and starts over the course of a night until they're wrapped up together and the scene takes a turn for the filthy.

_ What the fuck is wrong with me? One night together and I'm completely gone on this guy? _ She needs to get away from him before she spends too long looking into his agonizingly soft eyes and falls into the trap of the naked honesty they pull out of her. "Don't you fly out today?"

He seems to pick up on her unease and pulls his arm back to rest on his lap. "Not until this afternoon. I really do feel like we should talk about last night, though. I know all you wanted was someone to get the first time over with, and I'm always glad to be of service to a beautiful woman in need," he says this with a wry smile and throws her a sideways glance and finds her wringing her hands. He frowns and continues, keeping his eyes on his own hands to make the conversation easier. "But I care about you. Even if we barely had a conversation before the other night. I don't know, it feels like we.. connected in some weird way." He smiles to himself as a thought occurs to him. "Maybe it's an alien thing. Have you mind controlled me into liking you?"

Isobel's head snaps up at that and she spits out, "I would _ never _ do that. God, you think I would do that? I'm not _ him_." She is suddenly vibrating with rage and shame, her eyes boring into him furiously.

His eyes widen as he realizes his mistake and he turns to fully face her in a panic. "Oh fuck, no. No! That's not what I meant, at all. I'm so sorry, Isobel. God, that was a terrible joke. Really. I'm _ so _ sorry." He carefully avoids touching her as he continues, though his hands flail in the space between them as he tries to get the words out in a rush. He winces at his own attempt at an apology. "You know, the whole doctor thing really fools people. I'm actually just a dumbass. I swear! If you remember me from high school, you know it's true." He is rambling now, but Isobel doesn't stop him. Her shoulders are still tense and she isn't looking at him, but she _ is _ listening. "I guess I've just- I don't know, I see the way Max and Michael are with Liz and Alex, and it's like what they feel for each other is something unearthly. Like maybe there's something about your biology that makes you.. feel things differently. Deeper. Makes _ us _ feel those things differently too. God, I'm not making sense. I'm sorry." Isobel peaks up at him and sees how pained he looks. He gives her a hesitant but hopeful smile and says, "I know you won't go into my head without my consent again. I'm sorry if I made you think that, even for a second."

She purses her lips and wraps her arms around herself, turning away. She sighs and says, "You said us."

"What?"

"You said us. As in, you think you're in the same category as Liz and Alex." Kyle's eyes widen as he opens his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off. "You also said you like me." His bashful speechlessness is all she needs for confirmation, and a satisfied smirk spreads across her face as she pulls back the bedcovers and, on her hands and knees, slinks her naked body into Kyle's lap, his arms welcoming her and sliding down the bare skin of her waist to her hips. They lock eyes and Isobel gives him a radiantly honest smile before leaning down to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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